Art Is The Accomplice Of Love.

Art Is The Flower Of Life And, As Seed, It Gives Back Life.

Man, In Spite Of His Tendency Towards Mendacity, Has A Great Respect For What He Calls The Truth. Truth Is His Staff In His Voyage Through Life; Commonplaces Are The Bread In His Bag And The Wine In His Jug.

The Pleasure Of Being A Scoundrel Can Be Adequately Savored In Silence.

The Ever-present Phenomenon Ceases To Exist For Our Senses. It Was A City Dweller, Or A Prisoner, Or A Blind Man Suddenly Given His Sight, Who First Noted Natural Beauty.

Very Simple Ideas Lie Within The Reach Only Of Complex Minds.